In the Telling
by Aidan Baker
our eyes as windows let in moonlight like milk weave the threads warped
and woven into elaborate cellular structures supporting us like hammocks
in the sway and sigh the waters of oceaniac amniotic fluid.
[us lying here in the dark together side by side invading the each
other's dreams the length of you hot against the length of me and only
the shape of limbs curve of neck the edge of nose visible in the black
light before dawn.]
can one dream of sleep and how can dreams be only constructs if then
they are is waking too a construct and us too building blocks of matter
flesh sinew bone protein toys for the chubby baby fingers of some deity.
[the thud of the other's heart echoing through the chest and into the
bone of the one's own skull and reminding us of waking.]
feeding the child the webs inside our heads the spaces between our
entwined fingers the entanglement of our limbs it|she|he hides in the
back of our throats and waits to slip out unannounced and unnoticed
within the slip of words slip out in the telling.
AIDAN
BAKER IS A TORONTO-BASED WRITER AND MUSICIAN WHO HAS PUBLISHED INTERNATIONALLY
IN SUCH MAGAZINES AS INTANGIBLE, STANZAS AND THE COLUMBIA REVIEW.
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ISSN 1494-6114.
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